Murder They Wrote
by dutiesofcare
Summary: "Doctor, trespassing is illegal. We can't just break into someone else's properly!" The Doctor is convinced that Clara's new neighbors are murderers, leaving her the arduous job of knocking some sense into him.


**A/N: Just a funny prompt I've had in mind for a while. Hope y'all enjoy reading it as I've enjoyed writing it :)**

 **Disclaimer: None of the main characters belong to me.**

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The Doctor knocked on the wooden door four times, before settling with his arms behind his back. Opening a twisted smile to the magic eye as he heard footsteps approaching.

Clara opened the door to her flat with a frown stamped across her face. She stared at him up and down several times before finally speaking, "What are you up to?"

"What am I _up_ to?" he tilted his head, waiting for her to step aside and let him in. "I'm here to pick you up. Isn't that what we do?!"

Raising one of her brows, she pathed farther back into her apartment, expecting him to follow. He did. "Yeah, but you have no sense of privacy, Doctor. You usually just _barge_ in, regardless of what _I_ might be up to."

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Clara."

"You don't?!" she harshly put a kettle on the oven. "Do I have to remind you of all the trouble you caused that time you just happened to materialize here out of the blue _whilst_ my father was passing by?"

The Doctor grinned at the memory, but was quick to get rid of his smirk once he noticed the look of repression on her face. "I do admit my timing was a little off."

"Exactly," she grunted, placing two cups on the table, "So imagine my surprise when you _knock_ like a polite human being."

"But I'm not human, Clara," he stated, taking a seat and crossing his legs.

The beeping of the kettle alarmed that the water had boiled. Clara brought it to the table along the tea bags. "You're from a very civilized planet, Doctor, I'm sure your people has got several books on how to act decent."

The Doctor served himself some of the hot liquid. "I wouldn't know. I fled Gallifrey before I had the chance to read any of them.

"Fair enough," she sighed, taking a long sip of her drink.

"Besides, the Tardis was being picky. She refused to take the stairs," he groaned, his eyelids spending a long time between one blink and another.

Clara chuckled. "I'm pleased to know she dislikes you as well."

He shuddered with his hands, "Heh, she'll get over it."

"Do you think she'll still take me somewhere pretty?" she pondered, excitedly.

"Take you? What about me?"

She shot her shoulders up and down. "You're not on speaking terms, I wouldn't blame her for leaving you behind."

The Doctor scoffed, "You know what, we have more important matters to deal with than the TARDIS being annoying."

She squeezed her eyes, "Such as…?"

He stared right at the center of her pupils, speaking slowly, "Your neighbors."

Clara jerked back as she made a face. "What about them?"

Tenderly, he brought her hands to him, condescendingly, "Clara… I'm highly convince that your neighbors are potential murderers."

Breaking all the expectations, Clara busted into laugher. Her smile was bright and open, dotting the small cavity she had on her left cheek. She only managed to control her static behavior once she realized his face hadn't shifted at all. "Wait, are you serious? Actually, properly serious?"

"Of course I am, Clara…!" he squealed, offended that he hadn't been taken seriously. "I ran into them in the hallway, odd fellows I must say."

"You're the odd fellow, Doctor," she smirked, ironically.

He shrugged. "Perhaps. But not nearly as odd as them."

Clara leaned back on her seat, "I'm going to pretend you did _not_ just say what you just said."

"Pretend all you care, Clara," he seemed indifferent, "But I'm not just going to sit back and watch as you become their next victim."

Clara threw her hands in the air. "I'm not going to be their next victim because they're _not_ murderers!"

The Doctor made a face, "And how would you know they're not?"

"How would you know they _are_?" she hissed, her tone coming out higher pitched than she intended.

"Because," he held his index finger in the air, "As I was just getting to your flat when I passed them by. As the polite human being you've always tried to make of me, I greeted them, but they just gave me a weird look and straight away ignored my existence, too focused on the big black bag they were carrying to acknowledge my importance to the continuum of time-space."

"You're not that big of a deal, Doctor," she grunted, disbelieving he was putting her through such a conversation, "Which of my neighbors are you talking about, again?"

"Dunno," he shuddered, seeing as she opened her mouth to object and jumped in before she could say anything, "But I grabbed an analysis of their genetic code with the sonic shades and tracked them down to an apartment two floors up."

She seemed to think for a while, before her head lit up like an illuminist bump. "Wait, are you talking about the Hispanic couple that's just moved in?! Of course they wouldn't greet you back, Doctor, they don't speak English."

"Excuse me?!" he arched both his brows, offended, "Have you forgotten about the TARDIS translating matrix?!"

She frowned her lips, "Then they must have found it creepy how a man they've never seen their entire lives just casually spoke to them in their mother language."

The Doctor considered her speculation with a bow of his head. "That doesn't explain the body hidden in the plastic bag."

" _There wasn't any body in any bag,"_ she emphasized word by word, lacking the patience she had when he first arrived.

"You can't tell that for sure," he crossed his arms, "You weren't there; you have _no idea_ how big of a bag it was. It's probably floating somewhere in the Thames by now."

Clara let out a restless sigh. "This is obviously going nowhere. Can we _please_ just drop it already?"

Unexpectedly, he offered her a wicked smile. "Then we make it go somewhere."

She gave him devious eyes in return. "Whatever you might have in your mind right now, we're not doing it."

Ignoring her remark, the Doctor stood up, taking three steps back towards the door. "Let's see it for ourselves, Clara."

Clara got up as well, trying to grab a hold of him before he made it out of her flat. " _No._ We're not doing anything. We're going to stay put for the next three days until we become dull and dumb from all the alienation on the telly."

All of her words got lost in the air. "Shall we, Clara?"

Before she could knock some sense into him, the Doctor stumbled out through the main entrance, waiting with delight for her to follow him – which she did with halting steps. "Doctor, trespassing is illegal. We can't just break into someone else's properly!"

He casually climbed the first steps of the stairwell. "You're overreacting, Clara. It's not like we haven't done anything worse."

She attempted to hold by the elbow, to no result. "Yeah, but this is my _neighbors_ we're talking about. What if they come back while we're still here?"

"Now, don't be silly, Clara," he repressed her, at last achieving one floor up, "They won't come back so soon. They're too busy hiding away the body."

"There's no body to be hid!" she yelled in a hushed scream, following him up to the alleged apartment. She found him there with his shades already on. "Doctor, come on, there's still time to head back to the TARDIS and look for murderers on the opposite side of the galaxy…!"

The Doctor waved his hand up and down in order to shut her up, simultaneously unlocking the door with his shades. He turned the knob over, carefully stepping inside. "Come along, Clara."

At first, she stood perfectly still by the doorframe, hoping he wouldn't take too long in there, but changed her mind when she realized how creepy she would look to anyone who dared to pass by, forcing her to make her way inside, closing the door behind her.

"Now that you've seen there's nothing here, can we _please_ leave," she begged, walking behind him like a desperate puppy.

"You'd make a terrible detective, I hope you're well ware of that," he accused, all of sudden stopping dead on his track and having her stumble onto his back.

Clara immediately rubbed her nose from the impact. "You know what, I'm fine with that. I have no intention of becoming a detective anytime soon."

The Doctor scoffed, "Can you at least pretend you're one right now? Just for the sake of it?!"

Understanding the more she went along, the sooner they'd get out of there, she agreed. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Look for evidences, obviously," he groaned, returning to his search around the place.

She sighed, "I'm sorry if I'm not sure of what to look in my neighbor's flat."

He was too busy looking for traits of blood through his sunglasses to allow her into his vision field. "Just do something other than stand there. I'm doing this for you, Clara."

As her chin fell down, she placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me?! I've never asked you to do anything. In fact, you've proven yourself very capable of doing _everything_ against of what I told you to do."

Slowly, he walked back to her. He held both her wrists in one of his hands, whilst the other cupped her cheek. He whispered tenderly, "You'll never have to ask, Clara, never."

Tilting her head sideways, she made a face. "Oh, shut up."

Just as he'd been doing when he first got to her flat, he ignored her words. "Come on, I'm sure we'll find something in the bedroom."

Without much of a saying, Clara was pulled into the master room by the arm. The Doctor was in such a hurry she almost tripped on his feet. She let out another breath as he vigorously wandered around.

"So? Anything yet?" she pondered, arms crossed before her chest. She provided him no help on whatever he was doing.

"Nope, not a single drop of blood," he cried, melancholically, "But that doesn't mean anything. There are other means of murdering without making a bloody mess."

She sank down at the edge of the mattress. "You're not implying light sabers, are you?"

He missed her sarcastic tone. "That's a nice hunch, but I was thinking of something a little more orthodoxic, like a blow to the back or the head or strangulation."

"I have a better conjecture," she opposed, "How about the only reason there isn't any traits of blood or any signs of a struggle is because there hasn't been _no murder_ at all?"

The Doctor stared at her blankly for several moments, before finally discarding her speculation. "Nah, I don't think that's it."

 _"_ _Honey? Did you forget to lock the door?"_

Clara shot the Doctor eyes of blood, mouthing, "I'm going to kill you."

 _"_ _Guess I did,"_ the second voice spoke, _"God, I keep expecting him to come greet us."_

 _"_ _I know. He's going to be missed incredibly."_

"Oh, I'm _so_ going to kill you," she repeated, clutching her fists together.

"So you're the murderer here," he alleged, spasming his arms wide, "Why didn't you say something before? You could have saved me a lot of work."

She tossed her brows together in anger, "You may thrive on adrenaline, Doctor, but if you don't find a way to get us out of here _right now_ you _will_ end up literally dead on a ditch."

They heard footsteps approaching. "Under the bed. _Now_."

The time travelers completely hid their bodies just as the couple dove into the bedroom. Clara had to cover her mouth with the palm of her hand, so her erratic breaths wouldn't be overheard. She could feel his calming one bringing static to the hair in the back of her neck. She had no doubts she could _kill_ him.

She watched as two sets of feet emerged into her vision field, the ones in sandals walking to the nightstand, the other in sneakers sinking down at the edge of the bed right in front of her. She pressed her hand even harder to her nose, so the escaping air wouldn't land against his heels.

 _"_ _The place still smells like him,"_ the female voice cried, full of sorrow.

 _"_ _We'll get another dog,"_ the male one spoke up.

When the Doctor understood what they had been carrying in that plastic nag, his mouth shaped into a soundless _oh_ , which he was sure she had heard, for she mercilessly hit her elbow in the crack between his ribs.

 _"_ _I don't want another dog, I want our dog back."_

 _"_ _Paloma—"_ he was about to scold her, but accidentally dropped his ring to the ground, it inevitably rolling to underneath the bed. In attempts to retrieve it, the man bent down forward, palming the floor in attempts to find it. His hand was getting so close to her that Clara had to lean back into the Doctor to the point their hips were gridding against one another.

He was about to give in and kneel down to grab it when his fingers wrapped around the tiny object – with a little help of Clara bringing it carefully to the general direction of his. They both let out a sigh of relieve when the hand disappeared.

The man carried on, _"He was really sick. There was nothing we could have done."_

 _"_ _I know,"_ she said, apologetically, _"It's just going to take some time adjusting."_

 _"_ _Come here."_

Firstly, there were four legs all together, and then, there were none. The sound of lips pressing together could be loudly heard from the Doctor and Clara's hiding spot. She turned her head to glance at him and potentially shoot him down with it. It took him a burning stare from her and a tilt of her head to finally comprehend what was happening above them. His lips once again formed an _oh_.

 _"_ _I have to take a shower. Don't want to be late for work,"_ she pleaded, although moans of pleasure still escaped her throat.

 _"_ _You know_ , _it's quicker if we take one together,"_ he prompted and the groan that came from her was already enough answer, _"Let's go."_

The feet reappeared into their vision rage until they vanished to the bathroom, closing the door as they went.

The Doctor gave Clara's back a pat of encouragement. "Get those little legs moving, Clara."

Struggling with the lack of space, she managed to climb out of there. She didn't even wait for him to depart the bedroom to a less risky place, so she could freely hiss, "I'm going to _bloody_ kill you!"

"Yes, you've made that perfectly clear," he grunted monotonously, taking his time to meet her in the living room.

She could see the smoke coming out of her angry nostrils. "Because of a _dead dog_ , we almost witnessed a couple having _sex_. Don't you find that even remotely creepy?!"

The Doctor peered her down blankly. "If you say so."

With a silenced yelp of annoyance, she turned on her heels to reach the door. Her mood only increased when she found it locked and the keys nowhere in sight. She snapped, "Will you _please_ make yourself useful and unlock the door?"

Knowing better than to cross her words, he opened his arms wide in redemption. "Yes, ma'am."

He only didn't expect his gesture to hit an ornament vase, it falling to the ground and landing with a crash, shattered in several little pieces.

Clara turned around to face him with panicked eyes. "You _didn't_."

 _"_ _Did you hear that sound?!"_

The Doctor shamefully bit down on his nails as the shower stopped running. "Apparently I did."

She hopelessly pulled him by the wrist, "C'mon, we need to leave now."

They managed to escape the flat and close the door with no crack just in time as the foreign man let out a whimper of disappointment at the sight of the broken vase.

"Why do you have to be so _clumsy_ …!" she accused him of being, following him down the stairs even when he failed to take a turn towards her own apartment.

He only cared to answer he by the time they reached the time machine. "I'll get them a new one. Knowing you humans, they won't even notice."

She was the first one to get inside. "No, you won't. You're not going anywhere near them again. I forbid you."

His brows arched at her command, watching her mess around with all the buttons at the console as if she owned the place. He pondered, "Are we going somewhere you're not telling me?"

"Away," she uttered plain and simply, still mad at him to the point she wouldn't initiate eye contact.

He nodded slow and dreadfully. "Away from…?"

Her hand stopped still at the lever. "The police, obviously."

His frown only increased, "Why are you running away from the police?"

She exhaled the longest of breathes, "Aren't you the slightest worried that they might have called the police after the suspicion of someone breaking in?"

The Doctor stumbled around the console until he was side by side with her. "You said they were Hispanic. Hispanic people don't trust the police."

She glanced up at his jawline, crossing her arms. "That still doesn't make it okay everything you've just put me through."

Copying her movements, he crossed his arms, too. "I was just trying to save your life, Clara."

She belittled him, "Save my life from what, the imminent danger from a dead dog in a bag? Or from the grieving of its owners?"

His lips ducked in annoyance. "Fine. Next time I come across murderous neighbors of yours, I won't do anything until _after_ they murder you."

Clara narrowed her eyes in oppression. "There won't _be_ a next time!"

He shuddered, "Don't be silly, Clara, you can't stop me from bumping into your neighbors."

"No, but I can stop myself from _listening_ to your crazy talk," she mumbled beneath her breath, "If you're going to break into people's flat, you're doing it on your own. And I'll make sure to visit you in jail just to say _I told you so_."

"Alright, you just slow me down anyway," his hands replaced hers on the lever, but didn't pull it down. "All the other times I did it without you, things went much smoother."

" _All the other times?"_ she gave him the look, perplexed. "How long have you been spying on my neighbors, Doctor?"

"Hm, ever since you've moved in?!" he stated what he assumed was obvious. "I couldn't just let you live in a building full of people ready to kill you, could I."

At last, she turned her body around to properly glare at his eyes. "You really are maddening, you know that."

The Doctor shrugged, "I just take care of your safety, Clara."

Her traits were serious, but her mood was finally starting to subside. "You take good care of me, indeed."

Although she'd reformulated his words, he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he brought his chin closer to his chest to prompt, "I believe you were about to take me somewhere?"

With an impious smile across her lips, she nodded. "Yes. You owe me an entire week of traveling to wherever I want after everything you've put me through."

He chuckled, "After just today or our entire time together?"

"Today only, of course," she whirred softly, "If you were to make up for _everything_ you've put me through, you wouldn't take over the wheel for another year _at least_."

Agreeing with a smile, he led her wrists with his free hand towards where his other one was. "Play nice and we'll talk."

With her fingers intertwined above his, they pulled down the lever together.

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 **A/N: Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)**


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